Chicken Soup
by fairwinds09
Summary: Henry simply can't resist taking advantage of Hook's ignorance of modern junk food-and his soft spot for Emma. Set after 3x22, definitely speculative. (Warning: also shameless crack!fic.)


A/N: Okay, guys, this is shameless crack!fic. For some reason, I am absolutely fascinated by the idea of Hook's unfamiliarity with our modern world, and it's producing all sorts of wild plot bunny shenanigans. That, and I really wanted to try Captain Swan from Henry's point of view, because I'm pretty sure that while he misses Neal considerably, he cares about Emma's happiness more than anything else. So...read, drop me a line in the review box, and enjoy!

* * *

Henry is having the time of his life.

His mom is in bed with a head cold, and Killian (whom he is rapidly coming to regard as a cross between a rock star and a really, _really_ cool sort of uncle) has decided that the two of them need to make her dinner. Since their return to Storybrooke, it has become extremely obvious to everyone, Henry included, that Killian is head-over-heels in love with his mother. And while Henry misses his father more than he's willing to say, he realizes that his mother needs someone like Killian in her life—someone who will take care of her, and not leave her, and make her happy. He has enough of David in him to be wary of anyone who is even remotely attracted to Emma, but he's decided that, thus far, the infamous Captain Hook doesn't pose her any harm.

And the fact that Emma is his weak spot makes the man _incredibly_ gullible. They've been in Storybrooke's general store for nearly half an hour, and Killian still hasn't questioned a single thing they've picked up. Henry's not sure what exactly he used to treat head colds while captain of the _Jolly Roger_, but he can't believe that Hook is willing to buy Lucky Charms, two bags of mixed chocolates, Cheetos, and bean dip for someone in bed with the sniffles. Regina would've _never_ fallen for this one.

"Are you entirely sure," Killian interjects as they stop at the ice cream aisle, "that she needs something called Chunky Monkey? Sounds absolutely barbaric," and he actually shudders a bit at the thought.

"It's ice cream," Henry reassures him. "What, did you actually think that there were bits of chopped-up monkeys in there?"

Hook shoots him a nasty look. "We have been fighting a wicked witch who used enchanted flying monkeys to do her bidding," he points out. "I didn't want to be nibbling on bits of some poor dwarf she bespelled."

Henry laughs out loud and plops the Ben and Jerry's container in their cart.

"It's really good," he promises. "It's her favorite ice cream. We both love it."

Hook looks thoughtfully at the container, as if committing the name to memory. Henry has discovered that the man is strangely hungry for details about his mom—nothing creepy, just little things, like her favorite color and what kind of ice cream she likes and whether or not she enjoys flowers. It's kind of like he did everything backwards, all the fighting and dramatic adventures and saving lives, and only now is he getting to know the real, everyday Emma Swan.

"What next?" Hook asks him, and Henry debates whether to actually be a good kid and take him over the soup aisle, or to push his luck a little further. The latter is just too tempting.

"Well," he says, pretending to deliberate, "one of the best things for a head cold is something called Coca-Cola." He _never_ gets soda when he's with Regina, and Emma only lets him have it sometimes. If he can wangle an entire 12-pack out of Hook, he can make it last for at least a month. Hook is looking suspicious, though, so he's really going to have to sell this one.

"And why is this Coca-Cola so good for people with head colds?" Hook inquires, and Henry is afraid for a moment that he won't be able to pull it off.

"Um…it's the bubbles," he says in a flash of inspiration. "The bubbles spread through your chest and help you breathe better. And," he keeps going, reminded of something he'd read once in a book he'd picked up at the library, "the brown color is because it's a nerve tonic. It makes people have more energy and stuff."

Hook thinks for a moment and then gestures expansively at the rows of brightly-colored bottles. "Pick out the best one, then," he says, and Henry can barely stop himself from doing a little dance of glee. He heads straight for the 12-packs and really hopes he won't have to explain to Hook what a can is. Fortunately, it seems that this is one modern phenomenon with which the pirate is familiar.

"All right, now we need to get her soup," Henry says, and Hooks frowns again.

"Do they actually make soup here?" he asks. "We can always stop by Granny's."

"Nah, she likes canned soup when she's sick," Henry explains. "Chicken soup with the little stars." They stop in front of the soup display, and Henry scans the rows of cans while Hook begins to read out the labels to himself. Apparently he's accepted the fact that all sorts of things come in metal cans in this world, and there's no sense in questioning it. Soup obtained, Henry consults the list in his pocket and heads to the next aisle. They're right in middle of selecting a proper tea when Henry stops suddenly and looks up at the pirate very seriously.

"You really like her, don't you? My mom, I mean," and Killian looks taken aback for a moment, and then Henry can see a faint blush rising on his cheekbones. He takes a moment to answer, but when he does, the words are grave and measured.

"Yes, lad, I do," he murmurs. "But lest you think that I'm trying to take the place of your father—"

Henry shakes his head quickly. "I know that's not it," he says, meaning every word of it. "But if you really like her, then that's good."

Hook's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Why do you say that? I thought…" he trails off uncertainly and glances down at the orange Pekoe in his hand.

"Thought that none of us really liked you?" Henry asks, and gets that look he gets all the time from grown-ups, the one that says how the hell did you get to be so perceptive? He grins cheerfully. "Mary Margaret's always had a soft spot for you. And David likes you better since we came back from Neverland. Regina—well, Regina pretends to hate everybody except me, so you shouldn't worry about her too much."

There's a pause. "And you? What do you think of me?" Henry gets the sense that Hook has to force himself to ask the question, and that he's more than a little afraid of the answer.

"I know you care about my mom," he says quietly, and he can feel the pirate tense beside him. "I know that you risked your life in Neverland to help her rescue me. And I know she likes you too." Killian stares, and Henry grins again, because he thinks it's hilarious that the very scary Captain Hook turns into a puddle of mush whenever Emma is mentioned. "Plus, you're a _pirate_, which is kind of amazing. So…yeah, I think we're cool."

Hook clears his throat loudly and turns back to the row of teas. "Right, then," he says crisply, "I think the Earl Grey really is the best choice. What else is on that bloody list of yours?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They're back at the apartment, chicken soup with stars bubbling on the stove, and Henry is busy finding places to stash his contraband before his mother starts feeling well enough to poke around. He feels that Killian would normally be perceptive enough to realize that most people don't store their Cheetos in a cardboard box hidden in a broom closet, but he's currently too occupied fussing over the perfect cup of tea for Emma to notice a thing. Henry waits until he's carried the dinner tray into Emma's room before he tries to make it upstairs with the Coke cans, and then on the landing he stops and takes a second to count them. His stomach does a little flip.

One is gone.

He creeps back downstairs in sock feet, hoping that Hook set it aside somewhere and hasn't bothered to open it yet, but it doesn't look like he's going to get that lucky. Noiselessly, he edges over to the half-open door of his mom's bedroom, wondering at what precise moment she's going to figure out what he was up to on their little shopping spree.

From where he's standing, he can only see Killian sitting on the bed, back to the door, smoothing Emma's hair.

"Feeling any better, love?" Henry hears him murmur gently, and he feels a flush of embarrassment creeping over his face. It's one thing to be okay with Hook liking his mom, and another entirely to actually _hear_ the besotted tone in the man's voice. It's absolutely ridiculous.

Emma mutters something in a croaky voice and reaches for the tray of soup, but Hook stops her with an upraised hand.

"Wait a moment, darling, I've got something here that we picked up at the market for you," he says proudly, and Henry has a sudden sinking feeling. Emma's looking at the teacup, but instead Hook picks up a tall glass full of a dark carbonated liquid and gives it to her with a smile. She takes a small sip and grimaces.

"You're giving me _Coke_?" she asks blankly. Uh-oh.

"Of course. Your boy told me that it's the best thing for someone who's ailing—gives them all sorts of energy and lets the bubbles spread through their chest and so forth. It'll brighten you up in no time."

Henry knows the jig is up. The only question now is how far he can make it up the stairs before one or both of them catch up to him. Behind him, he hears a croaking voice yelling "Henry Daniel Mills!" and then some furious explanations and Hook's laugh, loud and uproarious over his mother's rant.

"He _is_ your boy, love," is the last thing he hears before he slips out onto his little balcony to breathe in the stillness of the night air and the stars. He knows that his mom will have a price he'll pay in the morning, and it'll be a hefty one. But for tonight, it's enough that his mother is taken care of. He's seen the way Hook looks at her, and the way she looks at him. She has someone now, someone to look out for her when Henry can't, and that gives him a sense of happiness that he hasn't felt since his father left.

That, and his mother will _never_ find those eleven cans of Coke hidden in his bedroom. It's going to be a great month.


End file.
